


Great Textpectations

by EikoWest



Category: Dragon Ball Z
Genre: (Not A Techie), (…Not Necessarily In That Order), Angst, Birthday Offering, Canon Divergence, Canon Male-Hermaphroditic Piccolo, Dende Likes Playing Cupid, Fluff, Generation Gap, Gohan In Denial About So Many Things, Happy Birthday Piccolo-san!!!, Humour, Implied Underage Alcohol Consumption, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Made Up Technology, Masturbation, NSFW, Other, Piccolo Secretly Adores Compliments, Smut, Story #161, Texting Anxiety Disorder, Uke Piccolo, Voicegasms, Yes Flip Phones Are Still The Coolest, 腐向け, 飯Ｐ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EikoWest/pseuds/EikoWest
Summary: Gohan and Piccolo attempt to have a long-distance relationship. But neither of them really know what kind of relationship it is. A (better late than never) birthday anniversary (supposedly on May 9th) offering for our favourite Super Namek! Happy Hatchday, Piccolo-san!!! ♥♥♥♥♥
Relationships: Piccolo Daimaoh Jr & Dende, Son Gohan Jr/Piccolo Daimaoh Jr
Comments: 18
Kudos: 50





	1. First Half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **o** This fits into the canon, under the premise that Gohan entered junior high school at 13 (actually 14) years old.
> 
>  **o** It got too long so I had to divide this supposed one-shot into a two-shot… (The concluding chapter is in the final editing phase and will be posted within the week.)
> 
> * * *
> 
> ⚠️ Be warned, this might trigger anyone with Texting Anxiety. ⚠️ (Seriously.)

“Dende! I have a question for you!”

The guardian-in-training had been enjoying the peaceful morning admiring the freshly watered flowers in the _Kamisama no Shinden_ , when the uncharacteristic urgency in his mentor’s voice made him jump. He rushed to the edge of the floating temple to meet his fellow Namek.

“Piccolo-sama! What is it?”

The tip of the interim Kamisama’s shoe had barely touched down when a small handheld device is whipped out of thin air and shoved towards the younger Namek’s face.

“What the devil does this mean??”

Dende flinched against the brightly lit screen of the mobile phone, squinting until his eyes finally adjusted and the letters and symbols came into focus:

> **_Piccolo-sama <3<3<3<3<3!_ **

“Oh.” Dende blew a huge sigh of relief. For a moment, he feared it was another power-mad despot from an alien planet attempting another hostile takeover.

“…Well?”

“It says,” Dende cleared his throat, rather proud that he knew enough about Earthlings by this time to confidently decipher the message, “‘Piccolo-sama, dai-dai-dai-dai-daisuki!’.” [ **Translation:** *I _really, really, really, really, really_ love Piccolo-sama.]

“What? What kind of language is this? What part of this says ‘love’?”

“Oh, well, that there is a heart symbol, see.”

“A heart symbol? A heart symbol means love??” Piccolo crinkled his nose as he flipped the screen back towards him and tilted it in different angles, before grumbling, “This does not look _at all_ like a heart. (A heart has no angles…!)”

Dende sweat-dropped, a polite rictus on his face. “I believe, that is how young Earthfolk say that they love or like someone using electronic gadgets… Though a more modest number of hearts would simply convey a liking or fondness. (The staggering number of hearts in that message leaves no doubt that he means love though.)”

“You mean it’s open to interpretation? Why the need for ambiguity? Why doesn’t he just spell it out?”

“Well… I'm not entirely sure why either but… It’s a cultural thing, I believe. Youngsters nowadays prefer this mode of expression in text messages because it’s shorter and, well, cuter. Those are called emotion icons or 'emoticons', which are usually alphabetical and numerical symbols combined to show emotion through images and facial expressions… It’s all part of this new generation ‘text-speak’ culture…”

Piccolo’s brows only knotted further.

To which, Dende could only offer a sheepish grin.

* * *

Story #161:

**“Great Textpectations”**

* * *

Son Gohan Jr watched the shiny piece of new technology sitting inside his desk compartment like it was a Saibaman about to self-destruct at any moment. Beads of sweat peppered his forehead, his heart teetering at the very edge of a great height right before that plummet down a virtual roller coaster.

He never imagined that waiting for someone to reply to a text message could be more nerve-racking than the lead-up to a battle.

Class was almost over, it was their last period and he had finished his seat work ahead of everyone else. Since he started his first year of high schooling, his mother made him promise not to engage in anything non-school-related, insisting that now more than ever, he needed to focus. And by “focus”, that meant, no distractions. But what Chi-chi genuinely meant was:

 _No big, green, Namekian distractions_ that go by the name of “Piccolo”.

Not getting to visit and talk to his childhood best friend as often seemed trivial at first, but as D-day drew nearer, the more pressured he felt. As ironic as it sounded, the superhuman fourteen-year-old who had survived countless more terrifying ordeals by age eleven found the idea of public schooling and being exposed to so many new faces in a completely new environment for the very first time quite daunting and…

He really would much rather not face all of it alone.

Understandably, although unquestionably braver than most other children his age, he had a crippled social life, and while it didn’t impact his intelligence and capacity to adjust, it did cause some level of anxiety to be told that he was suddenly going to be uprooted from his secluded life in the countryside to smack-dab in the centre of one the busiest cities on the planet. Gohan had never been around anyone else except his family, almost all his life. The few interactions he had outside of that were limited to his father’s closest friends and, unfortunately, also his foes. His mother had failed to consider that perhaps this was the true reason the boy’s mind had imprinted itself so strongly on his very first real companion outside of his family unit, even if it was, technically his kidnapper and his father’s murderer.

Inevitably, anyone cooped up in their room and forced to do nothing else but pour over encyclopedias and textbooks ceaselessly for the greater part of their childhood would find themselves aching for a reprieve. Gohan constantly longed to be outdoors instead, exploring and discovering things up-close and personal, heck, even training held fonder memories in his heart than all those endless hours of sitting and immersing himself in school books from dawn to dusk. Anything to break the monotony of his home schooling life—which became even more unforgiving after he turned five—was more than welcome. Piccolo had become the one and only stark representation of that “escape”, his reprieve and rescue from the cage that was his insularity, his cowardice, his ignorance, and even his own mind that had been tethered to so many imposed limitations. It was the Namek who helped him uncover the greater part of him that had always been under strict lock and key. It was the same Namek who helped him out of the bars that trapped him, not by unlocking it, but by teaching him how to break free on his own.

Naturally, as Gohan was about to take this monumental step into his new life of communal schooling, he sought out some mettle and solace in his pillar of strength that was the Earth-born Namek. The telepathic connection he had with Piccolo, although employed sparingly, was always a huge comfort to him in times of boredom and loneliness. Whenever Piccolo secretly visited him, it was the balm to his claustrophobia. All in all, to say that Piccolo Daimaoh Jr’s stern but unwavering presence is what really helped him get by all those years, would be a morbid understatement.

While telepathic conversing is a perfectly normal thing within his circle of Z-Senshi friends, it goes without saying that it was not viewed as such in public. On few occasions that an opportunity for a dry-run presented itself, it went exactly according to expectation, earning him strange looks and suspicious stares everywhere he went. Conveniently, such reactions never bothered his father whenever he had those seemingly one-sided conversations with himself in the midst of a crowd of people whenever he talked to Kaioh-sama. Gokuu didn’t have to regularly return to, for example, a school or workplace, and so coming off as a tad flaky to a bunch of strangers would matter little to him in the long run; if it did at all. Gohan seriously doubted that being spotted talking aloud to a seemingly imaginary friend in the middle of a school corridor milling with students would help his chances of gaining friends or even a sound reputation for his future academic and professional life endeavours.

What’s more, the longer the distance, the more Ki is expended to be able to carry out a two-way telepathic connection. His house was far enough from the temple; Satan City was even farther. He would hate for his Namek friend to go through that kind of petty trouble for him. He just needed a little extra moral support, he didn’t need for Piccolo to hold his hand every step of the way.

Luckily, thanks to stroke of inspiration, he was able to come up with a brilliant solution…

He had given his mentor a mobile phone (even if it took some “convincing” for Piccolo to finally accept it).

**_At Kami no Shinden. Two days ago…_ **

“…It’s the latest and most advanced, no charging-required model. Isn’t it awesome? Well, actually that just means you don’t have to plug it in because it’s got self-charging solar-powered batteries so it’ll run forever, as long as you expose it to the sun at least an hour a day. Still pretty awesome.”

Piccolo only stared at the device in his erstwhile pupil’s hand, as if it were a grotesque baby Saibaiman reaching up to its foster daddy and waiting eagerly to be picked up. Finally getting over his revulsion, he looked up at Gohan and said very icily, “I have no need for such things.”

The hybrid fourteen-year old’s head drooped and his shoulders slumped. Then, ever so slowly, he began to retract his outstretched arm that held the brand new mobile phone.

Piccolo could almost see the virtual storm cloud that suddenly hung heavily over the boy. The Namek sucked in a deep, drawn-out breath through his nostrils, and with a disgruntled growl—he knew he was going to regret it but—

“Fine!”

Gohan instantly lit up the moment the phone was snatched from his fingers. “Piccolo-san!!! I’m so happy!!!” 

Piccolo was already regretting it as he was crushed tightly between powerful Sayajin arms. He really didn’t see the point to any of it, or even the boy’s overenthusiasm, for that matter. But he patiently waited out the embrace anyway.

“Oh, and I know you might have difficulty typing with the keypad (it takes some getting used to), so I customized a bunch of generic messages for you. All you have to do is pick which one you need, see?” Gohan stepped up beside his tall friend and flipped open the device.

Piccolo’s brows furrowed and pressed low above slitted eyes as he caught some of the preset messages the teenager scrolled through:

_Hi!_

_OK._

_How are you?_

_I miss you._

_I love you._

_How is your day?_

_What are you doing right now?_

And other nonsensical (and embarrassing) messages that he couldn’t envision himself ever needing—certainly not writing or saying to someone else—not if he could help it.

“Here.” Gohan returned the device and stepped back. “Why don’t you try sending me a message right now?”

Begrudgingly, Piccolo held the small device with both hands and attempted to press the keypad to select some of the options on the screen… Only to end up mashing two keys at once and ending up in another part of the menu he did not understand. A vein popped in his temple, but he valiantly persevered a few more times until he was completely lost and feeling incredibly stupid.

“This is primitive and constricting!” he said, irritably flicking away his new mobile phone… Which, to the astonishment of his sole spectator, didn’t fall to the ground and shatter. It stopped in mid-air and remained suspended there, hovering and turning idly, seemingly connected to an invisible set of strings attached to the tips of Piccolo’s fingers. “How is telepathy not better than this?” he said, twirling the object like a top with a telekinetic nudge.

Said sole spectator was almost drooling at the cool impromptu display, always in utter awe of his master’s magical prowess. After all these years, he was still Piccolo’s number one fan, after all…

“It isn’t,” Gohan admitted, finally snapping out of his stupor after some seconds. “But this is more natural when I’m in public. A-and that’s a good thing! So we can keep in touch more discreetly, you know? I-I mean, it’s fine when I’m alone, of course. But I’m so used to your voice in my head that I always forget that I’m not supposed to respond out loud when I’m with others. I just get so excited to hear your voice and all…”

Piccolo only huffed and cocked his head to the side at that (maybe or maybe not trying to hide his fast-warming cheeks).

“A-and this way, you don’t accidentally get to read my thoughts… I mean, there’s a lot of gunk in my mind right now—err, school stuff! Don’t wanna bore you with those, heh!” Gohan had practically toned his voice down to a whisper in his last couple of sentences, cheeks flushed and head ducked low. Piccolo lifted an inquisitive brow at that, but said nothing. The boy had nothing to hide before, which is why he found the sudden secretiveness peculiar.

The Namek huffed. “Whatever.” And with a flick of his wrist, the gadget vanished in a puff of wispy smoke, presumably hidden away in one of his famed mystical pockets.

“Promise you’ll always call or send me messages when you can?” Gohan called after him.

The retreating man only ‘harummphed’, raising a hand in blasé acknowledgement.

**_…_ **

Gohan needed to keep in touch with his master in a way that didn’t draw attention—not least of all, from his mother. Using something ubiquitous that practically every city dweller owned and utilized for long-distance communication was a nifty idea, he knew that. But it was one that he would have never thought of, if the Universe did not give him a little push in the right direction…

It wasn’t surprising that he had never found the perks of having a mobile phone enticing enough to purchase one for himself. He never had any practical uses for owning that certain piece of technology and wasn’t interested in the entertainment value it offered. _Games, music, videos, social media?_ No. _Internet?_ Nuh-uh. He was a child of the mountains after all, and had grown up surrounded by much more wondrous things—things that were _real_ and therefore, appealed more to his mind and senses, like nature and living, breathing things; why would he trade all that for the digital world through the tiny window of an electronic gadget’s screen? With Chi-chi at the helm of their household, they didn’t own anything that just existed for entertainment purposes – no stereo, no DVD player, certainly no game console. Furthermore, Chi-chi was so incredibly thrifty that it took some hardcore convincing to get her to see the merits of a fully automatic washing machine and gas stove, because heck, the former princess of Mount Frypan was fine doing things the good old fashioned way; scrubbing and rinsing and wringing the laundry with her bare hands, skewering them on a sturdy pole, and having the power of the sun and wind dry them; likewise, cooking their Viking-sized meals via the outdoor or fireplace stove was not a problem for her. The only reason they even owned a television set—which they hardly ever used, with no one in the Son Household having the time nor patience to plant themselves in their nonexistent couch to stare at a screen for a given period of time—was because it was a wedding present. The very same reason Gohan possessed a mobile phone in spite of everything. It was Kririn’s “going-to-high-school” present.

Understandably, someone so unapologetically introverted as Gohan could not see how having a mobile phone was going to make his life any better either. Its primary function, which was for communication, wasn’t something that he needed at all. He didn’t have anyone in particular he wanted to keep in touch with that he wasn’t already. He communicated just fine with Bloomer-san and the rest of the Z-Senshi via his Saiyaman Capsule Corp watch which doubled as a communicator. Sure, he was looking forward to making new friends in the city, but he didn’t see the point in exchanging messages with them beyond school hours, when he was already going to be spending the entire day with them for almost every day of the week. So even when his good Z-Senshi friend had already provided him with the said mobile phone, even just remembering to use it took some time.

That all changed one Sunday, a week before his first day of school started. He was accompanying his mother at the mall, helping her shop for supplies and waiting for her to finish paying at the cash register, when he overheard a young woman on her phone as she passed him by…

She gushed out phrases like: _‘…I really miss you!’,‘I love hearing your voice so much!’ and ‘I’m so happy we can get to talk like this even if we’re far apart!’_

He didn’t think much of it at that time, but a spark flickered somewhere in the back of his mind; a foreshadow of an epiphany, if you will.

Then, that same night, as they sat down for supper, Chi-chi announced her new rules for the brand new phase of his up and coming student life which banned him from all possible “distractions” from his schooling, and the lightbulb in the back of his mind switched on and he could see all the dots finally connecting. Just like that…

The practical applications of owning a mobile phone made perfect sense.

**_Back to the present._ **

Gohan didn’t expect the source of his initial excitement and optimism to end up being the bane of his existence. He had gone from total mobile phone naysayer to an apeshit anal retentive text-obsessed maniac in a matter of days! Constantly antsy and hung up over every single text message he did or did not receive from his taciturn Namek friend. He was beginning to understand why a lot of people were incessantly glued to their phone’s screens… _Is this how it felt? Being on the line, expecting… anticipating… minute after gruelling minute, while someone that mattered to you, someone you needed to affirm your feelings has put you on hold indefinitely and left you to agonize over whether that one message that you so desperately crave will ever arrive? When did this even matter so much anyway? Why – did it even matter at all? Could everyone, deep down in our very heart of hearts, really secretly craving these pathetically short spurts of validation and instant gratification so desperately?_ The waiting was slowly eating him up from the inside-out, like hordes of termites on the Super Saiyan munchies. He never thought the day would come that he would actually choose physical torture—anything! but this maddening psychological one.

_Why wasn’t Piccolo-san replying?_

_Did he go too far with his message?_

_Did he offend his friend?_

_Did Piccolo-san hate him???_

The school bell rang out and mechanically, he packed his books as their teacher went about his rounds to collect their seat work. A thousand thoughts were plaguing his mind as he absent-mindedly trudged out of the classroom and into the hallway; until he made his way out into the schoolyard.

 _Stop! Get a grip, will you?_ Gohan mentally chastised himself. _It’s only a text message!_ Piccolo-san could be busy meditating… Or helping Dende with his duties— _there were a hundred other more important things than one Kami-forsaken text reply!_ Still, as if under a hypnotic spell, his eyes automatically sought out his phone screen, and once again, compulsively read and reread their latest text exchange, checking for anything that he might have said wrong:

> _Gohan: Piccolo-sama! (●＾o＾●) Kon-ni-chi-wa!_

Fifteen minutes later…

> _Piccolo-sama: Hi._

Gohan started. Piccolo-san used one of his preset messages again, he bleakly noted. He replied with those more often… He always did his best not to feel bad about it. It’s only been two days ago, his master must still be having a hard time composing his own messages. It wasn’t easy after all, what with those long (and super cool, sleek obsidian) talons of his… (He took a moment to swoon at the provocative imagery the train of thought conjured, before regaining his composure.) _That’s right, that’s all there is to it,_ he nodded, as if approving his own theory to himself, forcing his pout to turn upside-down.

> _Gohan: School is a lot of fun, so far. And a little crazy. I’ve met so many new people and they’re all very nice!!! (●＾▽＾●)_

Ten seconds later…

> _Gohan: I miss you. ( T o T ) And…_

Five seconds later…

> _Gohan: Piccolo-sama <3<3<3<3<3! (●＾З＾●)_

Gohan thought the whole conversation was alright. True, the last message he sent was surprisingly random, but it wasn’t like he’s never said things like that to him before. He always told Piccolo that he loved him… Okay, so he was a kid when he last proclaimed it so unabashedly, but all the same… He never got any negative reaction from his master (if he got any reaction at all, that is)…

The tug of war in his mind didn’t let up, even as he ducked behind a secluded building, climbed up the tree to the rooftop, whistled for Nimbus and hopped onboard as the magical cloud whizzed by and took them high up into the skies.

When his phone suddenly vibrated, he nearly dropped it, the mutinous winds nearly plucking it right out of his hands. After some frantic moments of scrambling to catch it, he finally did, and he hurriedly opened his new message:

> _Piccolo-sama: …OK._

Gohan deflated. _Another preset message._

He reassured himself all over again that Piccolo just needed more time to adjust to what was to him a new and foreign means of communicating. Not that he particularly liked text messaging himself; calling was easier anyway, and maybe, that’s what he should do if he really wanted to speak with his friend…

He was already starting to regret making “OK” one of the instant reply message options…

…

It was a quiet day, particularly so, in the _Kamisama no Shinden_ ’s garden area where Piccolo had been meditating that afternoon (after he had received that puzzling “hearts” message from Gohan and sought out Dende’s help). He kept his fairly new phone in sight (as promised), and it free-floated around him like a star lazily orbiting its planet. The accursed thing had been keeping him on-edge all day, making him jumpy whenever it lit up or juddered, which it did quite often, and Piccolo wondered how Earthfolk ever got anything accomplished with the bothersome gadget’s constant rumbling interruptions. It was unsettling yet challenging at the same time; how he couldn’t help both dreading and being curious as to what kind of message he was going to receive next and if he was going to be able to successfully decipher the “text speak” codes used. _Perhaps it required some special youngster Earthling skill that came about with constant practice,_ he thought, assuring himself that it wasn’t anything he couldn’t eventually handle with sufficient training.

The said device buzzed right as it passed in front of him, rather rambunctiously, as if taunting him. Though Gohan was careful to set it to “vibrate” mode, of course, not wanting to hurt his master’s hyper acute Super Namekian ears, it still never failed to rile the said Super Namekian all the same; his eyes never failing to widen in owlish surprise every time it so much as blinked, still not accustomed to its persistent intrusions and operation, granted it was already the second day of it in his possession. For some reason, the calls alarmed him more than the text messages, imagining that Gohan might be in urgent need of his assistance. With some mild panic, he flicked his wrist and the incoming call is picked up.

“What is it, what’s wrong?!” he sputtered into the receiver. (Though, he didn’t really need to put the device close to his face, he heard perfectly fine even if it was at least a foot away.)

_'Hi, Piccolo-san! Oh no, nothing’s wrong… I was just wondering how you were, and…’_

Piccolo released the tense breath he had been holding.

_‘… I wanted to hear your voice.’_

For lack of a better response, the Earth-born Namek scoffed. He itched for a snarky rebuttal to cover up the shocked embarrassment he felt razing his cheeks. But couldn’t think of anything to say. The truth is, he looked forward to hearing Gohan’s voice too; though he never really gave it much thought. As a being who is sensitive to noise and frequencies, he wasn’t exceptionally enchanted by how most humans sounded. Whether he acquired an ear for the boy’s melodious and squeaky tenor out of necessity or some deeply psychological brainwashing technique, it grew on him pretty well, regardless. He supposed the fact that he never minded hearing it could be called a preference. If he went a step further and counted down the top three sounds he found most pleasant, it would come in second to crashing waterfalls and third to silence, then he supposed that qualified as “liking” it.

But it wasn’t so much the timbre and tone as it was the quality of his words. It was Gohan’s and Gohan’s sweet and thoughtful words alone that affected him in ways that no other being’s words never did. If he were to be completely honest, the mere presence of the young lad, his eyes upon him, his smile… It made something inside of him liven up and hum. At some point, before he knew it, Gohan’s very existence had become the beacon of hope to his lost and wandering soul. And it was exactly for those reasons that always made him drop his guard and tear down his usual barriers for the boy… Every single time.

An hour later, when Gohan had finally hung up after a long-winding—rather nonsensical and weirdly evasive—phone conversation, a coal-skinned man dressed like a genie, watering can in hand, appeared before the still very much bamboozled Piccolo, who was subtly chaffing his ears.

“It is wonderful, I think.”

“Hn? Huh?”

“That boy. He really has a thing for you,” Mr Popo replied with that blank-eyed stare and cardboard smile of his (even if Piccolo technically didn’t ask). (“What’s even more amazing than that is how there is reception up here in the Shinden…”) the genie added almost to himself, his expression unchanging.

“A thing?”

“He likes you,” Dende clarified, as he walked by to admire the freshly hydrated flowers.

“I already know that.”

“No, I mean, he really, really, really, really, _really_ likes you.” The young guardian curled his fingers with thumbs pointed down and slowly put them together forming a "heart" shape; a teasing smile ghosting at the corners of his lips. “He has a crush on you, _he loves you._ ” When Piccolo’s face remained comically stoic save for the beginnings of a blush, he pushed further, “He admires you, more than a friend and a mentor… He wants you.”

“…Wants me??”

“Romantically.”

“…”

“ _Sexually._ ”

Piccolo’s cheeks glowed deep purple in record time.

Dende chuckled.

“Why would he want me like that?” Piccolo spluttered. “Impossible…”

“Oh, Piccolo-sama. He can’t help it! People can’t help who they like. Just like you can’t help like him back, no matter how hard you try to fight it.”

“I’m not fighting it.”

“Not anymore, maybe.” Dende’s smile widened. Piccolo’s frown deepened. “Mr Popo is right. I think it’s wonderful…”

**_Several days later…_ **

Gohan didn’t know it, but it wasn’t simply the apprehension brought about by the promise of new experiences that made him desperate to keep in touch with Piccolo. It was a deep-seated fear he was still in denial of – a fear that _he and his best friend would slowly drift apart and soon forget each_ _other_ now that he was always so far away in a big city spending most of his time inside school surrounded by other people. He knew it would be exciting yet unnerving. Challenging yet boring (he was academically way ahead of everyone else). The introverted nature lover in him was a little overwhelmed and even the recluse genius in him was feeling out of his depths. Maybe it was just nerves. Maybe it was all of that and none of it. That’s what he kept convincing himself of. But he knew deep down that there wasn’t something but just _one thing._ One thing that really bothered him, and that he needed to address the issue before it was too late and things got out of hand…

Speaking of things _in_ his hand…

Upon entering his bedroom, he realized that he was _yet again_ , still grasping his mobile phone, severely tempted to send another text message of many, impetuously checking for new messages every three seconds like the Kami-forsaken thing was his lifeline…! Without really thinking as much as he was feeling, he haphazardly flung his mobile phone across the room…

Much to his satisfaction (and chagrin), it didn’t remain suspended in mid-air but thudded noisily on the carpeted floor. He winced, not knowing what momentary insanity possessed him to do such a reckless thing in the first place and suddenly worried that his brand new phone was now damaged. Luckily, his mother was out spending the day with his little brother, Goten. No one was home to make him feel more bummed than he already was, and that was something he was infinitely grateful for because hurling his phone wasn’t the only thing he was guilty of that late Saturday afternoon… A wave of dizziness and nausea surged up in his belly and he really regretted having allowed his new classmates to talk him into crashing at Sharpner’s house to get to know each other better by having “a little fun”. Now, thanks to a game of truth or dare, he had a sneaking suspicion that he was plastered pretty badly from that one bottle of beer…

Gohan let out a sigh as he face-planted himself on the bed. It had been a week since class started, since he first communicated with Piccolo via their electronic devices. He thought having a mobile phone would help ease his feelings of separation anxiety, help him concentrate on school better… But it’s felt like it was only making it worse. Piccolo never texted him first, and every time he texted Piccolo, all he would get were sparse replies that he himself had typed up. Every time this happened, it was distracting and disheartening. It made him feel so far apart from the man, like there was already this insurmountable distance between them that wasn’t there before when he didn’t have a mobile phone. _How could this excellent plan have backfired on him so tragically?_ Before he started school in the city, they didn’t communicate telepathically or see each other even half as often as they “exchanged” text messages, but back then, those gaps didn’t make him feel _this_ restless. Perhaps it was because back then, he knew he was free to see and speak with Piccolo, but now that his mother forbade him to, he had to get used to communicating with him via mobile phone, and it just felt… different. Distant. Alienating. Constricting… and overall, just dumb.

“Piccolo-san was right,” Gohan lamented, his words muffled and distorted as he pressed his face harder into the sheets. “It’s not better than telepathy, not better than the real thing. At all…” And the futility of it nearly brought tears to his eyes. _All wasn’t lost yet… He could settle for the next best thing:_

Calling.

But every time he called Piccolo, it only made the longing he felt sting even more. Plus, there’s that other thing… Gohan groaned as he felt his face heat up. He knew he liked the dour and sullen man ever since he was little. But he was not so accepting of the glaring, hollering, earthshaking fact that… Of the highly probable possibility that… Those feelings of fondness had evolved into something more profound and inescapable… He really didn’t want to acknowledge it, afraid that it would only intensify if he did… _But with how his body got so hot in all the wrong places at the mere thought of him… The way his heart plummeted and his belly roiled at the sound of Piccolo’s voice… The way his breath literally froze in his chest and the ground beneath his feet fell away whenever he got a glimpse of his mentor’s otherworldly magnificence…_ He knew he couldn’t keep ignoring the signs and emotions any longer… He couldn’t fathom the inexorable notion that he knew to be truth… That he was… _Oh gods…_

_…Seriously in love with Piccolo._

His very being jolted at this conscious admittance. He heaved several times, feeling the familiar shortness of breath and tightness in his chest along with all the other nerve-wracking symptoms of his “ailment”. His heart was beating so hard, it felt like it was going to beat itself out of his throat at any moment. And to his added astonishment, the area of the sheets beneath his eyes began to feel damp with warm, salty wetness.

It was so unfair. Everything was fine between them the way it was. _Why did he have to feel this way for Piccolo-san?_ He knew nothing would ever become of it. Piccolo cared about him as a friend and pupil, that’s it. The man was someone he looked up to and admired—the one being that he revered above all. That’s all he was allowed to give, and it should have been enough—it was so much more than he deserved. _How could he even have entertained the notion that it was okay to dream of his friend any other way?_ _How could he even have allowed himself to debase his beloved master’s pureness with his corrupted and so very selfish thoughts?_

_Why was his heart so stupid?_

**End of first half.  
To be continued in the second half…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally don’t vouch for the integrity of Dende’s text-speak translation abilities but… He is Kamisama Jr after all. X3
> 
> * * *
> 
> (2017/10/25-2020-05-10)


	2. Second Half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️ I follow Japan’s legal age of sexual consent, which is 13 (Gohan is 14 here). But I put that underage warning tag up there to be safe, and because Japan’s legal age for alcohol consumption is 20.
> 
> **o** Dende’s role here and his relationship with Piccolo follows some headcanons established in **"[God Smitten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8067133)”** where he is in the process of being trained as Earth Guardian and Piccolo still stands as interim Kamisama.

Thousands of miles away, high up in the heavens, in the temple of the Earth’s deity situated in a sacred realm at the very outer rim of the troposphere… The interim god, Piccolo Daimaoh Jr himself, was feeling strangely out of sorts.

His new best “frenemy” bobbed in slow motion close by, tailing him wherever he went like a loyal levitating sidekick. By now, he has begrudgingly grown somewhat accustomed to its hourly solicitations—a little too well, in fact, that the rare times it actually failed to disrupt him, he would worry. Something had to be amiss if Gohan was remiss in pestering him.

Piccolo puffed an irritated sigh and glared in disdain at the electronic device responsible for making him feel on edge all week… With a vehement shrug, he endeavoured to swat away the irrational thoughts; he wasn’t about to let an annoying piece of fancy-looking technology disrupt his inner peace.

But that didn’t stop his feet from taking resolute strides to the south-eastern side of the temple; didn’t stop his eyes from gazing into the fog-shrouded glimmering Earthscape below, wishing he could see as far as he could hear. Up above, stars emblazoned the inky firmament, sparkling in unison like a minefield of gemstones. Barring the prickly chill of approaching winter, the world looked idyllic and peaceful from his perch.

The corners of Piccolo’s lips crept up at a poignant recollection. The twinkling heavenly bodies always reminded him of Gohan’s eyes as much as the sun reminded him of Gohan’s smile. Eyes that always danced with so much ebullience and promise; smiles that were always blinding and radiant and exuding warmth… A long time ago, the first time he witnessed it, a part of him knew that he would do anything to keep that childlike wonder in Gohan alive; even if he wasn’t aware of it back then or didn’t understand why…

And it was that way for the longest time. He didn’t understand why it perturbed him whenever that flame in Gohan’s aura faltered and flickered; as though something inside of him would be snuffed out too if he ever allowed the boy’s lustrous glow to so much as dim even the slightest. No one else has ever made him feel so helpless and empowered, so weak and so strong all at once…

From the infinity of the cosmos overhead, he shifted his sights back to the consistent ebbing and flowing of life beneath his feet, as it thrummed and shimmered before him. He could hear it if he didn’t diminish the scope of his well-nigh omnipotent audio sensory perception: the beating hearts of billions of living beings. The Planet Earth itself, was like one super-galactic heart that never stopped beating…

Yet, he was only ever attuned to one heartbeat above all’s.

_What he felt; was it really what Dende had said it was…?_

  


BUZZZZZZ… BUZZZZZZ… BUZZZZZZ…

  


It took some seconds for Piccolo to fully snap out of his reverie and process that the persistent familiar vibrating noise was coming from his phone. It had been buzzing so often the past days that there were times when he heard phantom buzzing noises in his ears even when the phone wasn’t actually buzzing.

Almost perfunctorily, he answered the call with a wrist flick. “Gohan,” he said immediately, cringing at how overwrought he sounded.

_‘P-Piccolo-sama…’_

The Namek instantly sensed something _was_ amiss.

“What’s wrong? Why do you sound so… sad?”

_‘I… I’m not sad’ (A sniffle.) ‘I just miss you, that’s all.’_

“Gohan, are you… crying?”

_‘Huh…? I… Uhm…’ (The sounds of more sniffing, hiccuping, hurried wiping, and faraway nose-blowing pervaded his ears.) ‘…I’m not.’_

His half-human friend was clearly distraught about something, but that wasn’t only thing off… He didn’t seem like himself, he was talking like—

“Gohan… Are you drunk??”

_‘What? No!’ (Another hiccup.) ‘………Mmmmaybe?’_

Piccolo never had any experience being intoxicated himself, but he has seen enough drunken individuals to recognize one. He’s been to enough of Kame Senin’s and Bloomer Briefs’ notorious all-night parties (usually under duress) to have the misfortune to witness the Z-Senshi in different stages of inebriety and the circus of ignominies that followed…

These “experiences” were also what led him to informed of the fact that teenagers were not legally allowed to consume alcohol—teenagers such as Gohan. Though, he has never bore witness to the youngster being drunk, it was one thing to watch the Z-Senshi make utter idiots of themselves when they were smashed out of their minds, but he had no desire to watch the boy unwittingly fall victim to such embarrassing, self-inflicted self-degradations.

“Gohan, are you alright? Do you need me to come ove—”

 _‘No!!!’_ _(After the sudden outburst, Gohan’s voice dropped to a broken murmur,) ‘I… I don’t want you to see me right now… Like this.’_

Piccolo rolled his eyes. “I can hear you all the same.”

_‘Well… It’s still more embarrassing to be seen than heard.’_

The Namek sighed. He couldn’t argue with that. At least, it sounded like the youngster still had some amount of sense left in him, sans the prevaricating slurred speech and the curious absence of emotional inhibitions.

_‘…M-maybe not right now. But I’d like to see Piccolo-sama very much, sometime soon… If that’s okay…’_

“Of course.”

Piccolo was not the type who knew what to say in casual chitter-chatter, on the phone or otherwise. Usually, all the dead air was filled in by Gohan being his cheerful vocal self. At that moment, however, Gohan didn’t seem cheery nor vocal and chose not to say anything at all for an anomalous length of time. Which Piccolo would have—under normal circumstances—been immensely grateful for, as silence was a rare commodity to someone with Super Namekian hearing, but… During those tacit moments Piccolo heard enough—far more than words could have conveyed: _the soft sniffles and sharp heaves, accompanied by the harsh, stumbling staccato of Gohan’s heartbeat in the background;_ all of which Piccolo’s ears found impossible to miss.

  


…

  


On the other end of the line, Gohan, for his part, was keening to the sound of his master’s steadfast breaths. He didn’t know what possessed him to crawl over to his yeeted device after his undignified bout of self-pity. He had no idea why in spite of all his arguments to the contrary, he still gave in to the temptation to call Piccolo without really knowing what in blazes he was going to say—everything he wanted to say were things that should never be said between friends. Feelings that should never be felt between master and disciple…

But at that point in time, he wasn’t really mindful of whatever Kami-forsaken consequences anymore. Against his mother’s orders and against his own rationality (as muddled and murky as it was at present), there was a child in him feeling vulnerable and restless without his living security blanket. That child wanted nothing more than to run to that blanket of comfort that was Piccolo. He needed to feel that blanket over him and all around him; he wanted to curl up inside it and wallow in the familiar pacifying energies and the staunch safety that only his giant, green guardian demon could provide.

All Gohan knew then was the overwhelming need to feel close to Piccolo, and hearing his best friend's voice over the phone was the only way he could think of. As much as it pained him: _telepathy was no longer an option._

Even if his mother wasn’t around to catch him talking to Piccolo telepathically or otherwise, he didn’t dare risk letting Piccolo inside his head—not with the way he was now. There were too many unchaste thoughts in his mind lately that he couldn’t possibly risk Piccolo glimpsing; he would never be able to live it down—let alone face his master, ever again…!

His free hand clamped over his mouth, futilely trying to keep his sobs in check as renegade tears continued to roll down his cheeks. _He couldn’t bear the thought of Piccolo hating him, he just couldn’t!_

_‘…Gohan, please. Tell me what’s wrong.’_

Gohan crunched down on his lip as tingling currents travelled from his ears down his spine. Piccolo’s mellifluous timbre was so deep and soulful that he imagined even his phone broke out in goosebumps just from carrying the soothing sound waves across.

If he closed his eyes, it almost felt as though Piccolo was right there beside him; _luscious, innocent lips pressed against his ear whispering sweet-inviting-dirty nothings…_

Quick as lightning, his manhood responded to the vivid stimulus and snapped to attention terrifically, causing him to cry out in shock.

_‘Gohan?? Is everything alright?! Are you in danger?!’_

“Ahh! I-I… It’s… I just…”

Gohan struggled for a better, more articulate sentence; but ended up with more stuttered nonsense. Piccolo being this way—heck, _Piccolo just being Piccolo!_ It always threw his mind and body in total disarray. He didn’t understand it—how and when it all started, but just thinking of Piccolo nowadays made his stomach churn and his extremities prickle – and not in the same way it used to when he was just a child fresh out of his diapers and pissing his pants in fear. Gohan fumbled for words, but they warred within him; and he could feel his body, heart, and soul slowly but surely winning against his mind. A strangled whimper died pitifully in his throat when he saw the formidable tent straining against his track pants.

_‘Gohan…?’_

He should have known better than to put himself in this situation.

_There was no stopping it now…!_

“P-Piccolo-san……”

His throat felt parched and constricted. His breaths came in short, quick gasps, the weight pushing against his ribs grew heavier by the minute.

_…There was always only one way to stop it once it’s started._

_‘Gohan, I’m coming over!’_

“N-NO, DON’T!!!” Gohan’s heart lurched. _He wanted to see Piccolo, of course, but he can’t—!_ His face contorted in anguish and he braced himself against the wall to steady himself as he swooned. _I can’t let him see me like this!_ “I- I promise, I’m okay.”

_(A simmering growl.) ‘You don’t sound and feel okay. Tell me what the devils is going on, Gohan!’_

_Oh, oh… This was bad… This was very bad…_ An angry Piccolo may have scared him shitless once upon a time, but somewhere down the line, it started to have a completely different effect on him… Seeing and hearing his master worked up only turned him on so badly.

His fingers gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles were ashen. It felt so wrong to feel so good about Piccolo so upset but for all his guilt– it didn’t stop his free hand from slithering down to his pants and slipping inside the waistband of his underwear. It was pathetic, and he should hang up the phone _that very instant_. But it was no use. Doing so would only arouse Piccolo’s suspicions even further. Even in his sozzled state, he knew it was a Catch-22.

Gohan knew his childhood friend well enough by now; it was only a matter of time before the Namek rushed over to “check on him”. Therefore, there was only one way out of his pinch:

_He needed to stall Piccolo long enough to make his “problem” go away._

He had to keep his mentor on the phone for as long as possible while taking care of his “business” as quickly as possible!

_(More low growling.) ‘…Gohan!!’_

“R-really, P-Piccolo-san… I’m… f-fine. It’s just…” Fetching himself from his underwear, he held on for dear life and began to stroke not-so-briskly. “W-would you… h-hate me… if I… I told you…” His breathing began to escalate minutely with each painstakingly slow, urgent pump. “…T-that I… thought about you… i-in a way that… that was wrong?”

 _Dammit,_ Gohan gnashed his teeth. Of all the other topics he could choose from to coax Piccolo into staying on the line longer… _Why did he have to choose the one that was hitting too dangerously close to home?_ Well, apart from the fact that he was blitzed and didn’t know any better, _what other choice did he have?_ Exchanging esoteric Ajisa spice recipes or waxing poetic about the all-year-round perfect weather in the _Kami no Shinden_ weren’t topics particularly conducive to achieving sexual gratification (not to him, at least). The bedazzling Super Namek being all bothered and uncomfortable in his full naked glory was the shortest route to a precipitated ejaculation. Except that, he forgot to consider one thing…

_‘…What do you mean, Gohan? What is this about?’_

The Piccolo in his imaginings didn’t have a mind of his own; _that_ Piccolo almost always only said and did _whatever he wanted him to say and do._

He had never been brazen enough—or wasted enough—before to dare broach this taboo subject. There was no way of predicting if the next thing this _very real_ Piccolo said would hasten or hinder what he was trying to achieve…

And perhaps it was his current fuzzy state of mind or his frayed nerves (or both)– but with every second he risked hearing Piccolo say something he didn’t want to hear (such as scathing hatred, bitter disgust or just plain rejection), the black hole forming where his stomach was supposed to be only got bigger and bigger, just like the monster inside his pants that he was trying to vanquish… _And the prolonged suspense was doing nothing but preempt his building orgasm!_

“J-just please… Piccolo-saan—aahh… I-I need to know…”

Gohan held his breath at the dead air that followed. It only lasted a fraction of a minute, but with every clock tick it felt like quicksand slowly sucking him in and squeezing the life out of him. He clung to the consistent swell and dip of Piccolo’s rhythmic breaths; trying his best not to get carried away and hasten his movements too soon, lest his extremely sharp-eared friend would notice…

  


_‘I could never hate you, even if I tried, Gohan.’ (A resigned scoff.) ‘And I_ did _try. You know that…’_

  


Gohan nearly drowned at the deluge of emotions that inundated him. The statement was a heartbeat short of a confession to his ailing heart; it almost undid him there and then– if he wasn’t so overly choked up about it. He tittered deliriously in between breathless sobs of happiness and relief, his hand moving on its own around his now fully hardened shaft with renewed urgency—his pace quickening. _Piccolo-san doesn’t hate me… Of course, he can’t hate you! That’s because he sees you as his friend—or a brother… Maybe even a son! What??!! Ugh. Oh my Kaioh…!_ Gohan shook his head vigorously, actually feeling his boner slacken a little at the inappropriate and ill-timed conjecture, tasting pungency as he threw up a little in his mouth. _Shut up. Shut up. Shut up…!_

  


_Focus!_

  


Taking deep nasal breaths, he continued his self-manhandling, pumping with renewed reckless abandon. He chomped down hard on his lip to stifle a loud groan. He longed so badly to touch his beloved mentor, while praying desperately to all the gods that the man wouldn’t come within a mile of him and his present shameful deed. _Of course, he doesn’t hate you because he doesn’t know—oh, but if he did… What are you saying? Don’t you trust Piccolo-san?? He said he could never hate me! Sure, but are you willing to put that to the test…?_

_No!_

_Piccolo-san means the world to me…_

_I can’t afford to lose him…_

_I love him too much…!_

Gohan grimaced, the conflicting thoughts and emotions weren’t making things easier for him at all. They were literally just tearing him apart! He was practically bursting but he couldn’t quite get himself to that much-needed crest! _So close but so far…!_

“P-Piccolo-san…!!

  


…

  


_‘…I love you.’_

  


**-x-**

  


_“…How can you be so sure that it’s what you say it is?”_

  


…

…

“…You said that he ‘wants' me… In a way that is more than what we are now. But…

  


“How can you be so sure?”

  


Dende’s coal-black orbs regarded his senior for some quiet moments; as if discerning whether or not he only imagined hearing the question. Piccolo was meditating in the rear section of the temple when he passed by the garden there to admire the flowers as per his usual morning routine. The older Namek hadn’t moved from his levitated lotus posture—didn’t even open his eyes… But his normally ataraxic Ki was somewhat fractured and tumultuous.

The implications of it actually coming from Piccolo’s lips were staggering, yet the apprentice guardian refrained from teasing his teacher about it just yet… He needed to be serious and credible for what he was about to say, after all.

“There different types and varying degrees of love on Planet Earth– as opposed to Namekian love (called ***** “ _aisu_ ”, by the way), which is only one and the same thing for Namekians and all-encompassing, fully dependent on the other party’s wishes and comfort. But… Earthian love in general still shares plenty of similarities to Namekian _aisu_. Familial love, sibling love, love between friends and fellow Earthlings. All of which aren’t selfish or impulsive, nor controlling and unkind. However, the more romantically-inclined type of Earth love called “falling in love” or “being in love”, is similar to _aisu_ in the sense that it involves two individuals, and is—in its most perfect sense—expectedly, a lifelong _mutual_ interdependency and commitment. One can feel romantic love for another without expecting anything in return; however, romantic love only reaches its pinnacle when that love is reciprocated in full…

Dende smiled up at the senior Namek's back.

“You knew nothing of _aisu_ , being an Earth-born Namek so far-removed from the ways of our kind—even brainwashed to believe that you hailed from demons and became a Demon Clan affiliate by association, yet, without knowing it… You have practised it. That is the kind of love you have been giving Gohan-san all this time. A selfless, unconditional devotion…  


 _“…Aisu._ ”

Piccolo’s eyes opened, slowly widening for a several blinks, before glossing over in deep thought.

“Whereas Gohan-san’s love may have started out somewhere between fondness and adoration; but with time, it developed into something much bigger… And going by all the blushing and doting—by his constant preoccupation with only you; his willingness to do anything and defy all odds just to keep you close…?” Dende chuckled softly at all the wondrous possibilities unfolding between his two star-crossed friends. “I think Gohan-san doesn’t even know it himself either, but he is in love with you, it seems… In the deepest, direst sense of the word.”

Piccolo’s expression remained tranced, a light dusting of purple on his cheeks; misted blue eyes blithely transfixed on whatever phantom dreams and confabulations were parading in front of him at the revelation.

When the silence stretched on, Dende became quite concerned that perhaps he had unloaded too much.

“…Piccolo-sama?”

The older Namek stirred from his stupefaction, albeit tepidly. “…You said it can’t be helped…

“…It’s like a malady, then?”

“Hmmm… Generally, loving someone is more of an instinct or compulsion than a conscious decision; therefore, can rarely be forced and almost impossible to suppress—well, without engendering some degree of discomfort or negative repercussion to oneself, at the very least. So, _I suppose_ , it does appear similar to having an ailment of some sort – in some ways (although, calling it a malady feels rather cynical)…”

“It sounds troublesome…” Piccolo muttered as he closed his eyes once again.

“Hnn… As it can undoubtedly be, I can imagine…”

The younger Namek looked off into the soporific labyrinth of clouds in the distance. Being the planet’s new guardian, he was slowly becoming one with its people; their joys and their sorrows, their exultation and misery. Earthlings are born in frail bodies but their wills are a force to be reckoned with – indomitable and stubborn. He was drawn to that fascinating dichotomy; the weakness that becomes their strength and strength that becomes their weakness…

“—And pitiful,” Piccolo thought to add.

“I think it’s what makes Earthlings such passionate creatures. Their emotions can run amok! Although, Saiyajins are quite the self-indulgent, instinctual, and overzealous race themselves, so… I can’t even begin to imagine what terrific raging passions Gohan-san is made of and how hard it must be to keep it all in the way he does…” A twinge of sympathy crossed Dende's features. He snuck a curious glance at his elder, whose countenance returned to its usual impassive state. “I’m actually surprised that he hasn’t acted on his impulses for you by now…

“…Considering how much he wants you.”

Piccolo inhaled. Slowly. Then exhaled.

“Wants me…”

“Romantically and—”

“Yes, sexu— _physically._ ”

Dende nodded, even though Piccolo couldn’t see (he still had his eyes closed). “Earth relationships customarily culminate, not only in marriage or bonding, but in the physical joining of two beings—body and soul—to eventually build a family of their own… Unlike _aisu_ where the act of giving love in itself is its own fulfilment…”

“Family…” Piccolo repeated. It took some seconds before the meaning of Dende’s words sunk in, but when it did, his eyes shot open. “…He wants to produce offspring with me??”

“Uhhmm… yyyyyes…? That’s one simple straightforward way to put it… I guess…”

Dende didn’t think he’s ever seen his senior look more uncomfortable at the notion of something than he was now. And for some reason, he couldn’t resist pushing him further past the boundaries of that discomfort…

“…Do you feel the same way about Gohan-san?”

Piccolo’s brows only crowded against each other even more (like two caterpillars wrestling to go opposite directions on the same narrow twig), his lips compressed into a thin squiggly line—his immense discomfiture, self-evident. “I… I don’t know…”

“Hmm… Do you want to be near him? Always?”

This time, the answer came with lesser internal struggle. “…Compared to anyone else.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know… His presence is comforting.”

“Do you… feel the urge to touch him?”

At that, the older Namek spluttered, “W-what…??”

“Do you like it when he touches you?”

“I… I don’t necessarily _dislike_ it.”

“Does he make your heart stop or speed up? …Like just thinking or talking about him makes your heart and body—but especially your heart—act funny?”

Piccolo’s hand automatically went up to his chest where his heart was, indeed, beating “funny” at the mere talk of his dearest pupil.

“…Yet, you never experience it with anyone else, am I right?”

The stricken look on Piccolo’s face was telling enough an affirmation, even if he said nothing.

“I see.” Dende decided he would give his master a moment’s privacy from his scrutiny, turning away and back towards the endless sky, a knowing smile on his face. “Don’t worry, Piccolo-sama. You’ll figure it out on your own. In time. I’m quite positive that you’re in love with him too, but it’s difficult for you to make the distinction because you love him a little too much and he loves you more than he can handle, and well…

“…Sometimes love can be overwhelming like that.”

…

…

  


**-x-**

  


_‘…I love you!’_

Piccolo has heard it many times before. But the shock of hearing Gohan actually say it to him now that he was all grown up—and now that he had a clearer idea of what it actually meant…

It was also the first time he’s heard those words weighed down with such desperation and melancholy, that it struck a chord deep within him and made him feel weak in the knees. His stomach felt like it had been shoved up his chest cavity and his heart pulsed loudly in the back of his throat.

Whether Dende was right or not, he didn’t know for sure yet. But one thing he did know was that he couldn’t stand another moment of Gohan’s soft sobs and gasping breaths on the other line. He didn’t know if the boy needed him or not at that moment, but he knew that his friend was in some form of distress!

“Gohan, I don’t care what you say, I’m going there now!”

_‘W-whu—n-no! Piccolo-san! Wait…!!!’_

  


…

  


But Piccolo had already hung up.

Gohan gaped in abject horror at the piece of technology in his hand like it was a Saibaiman seed about to sprout limbs and a head. For a minute or two he couldn’t move from the corner of his room where he had curled up, hand still wedged in the dark confines of his pants, caught up in a ridiculous dilemma: to hide it or to finish himself off and pronto– what should he do?? _He was already so close…!_

Of course, concentrating on coming was near impossible now that he knew that Piccolo was coming; and chances are, no matter how fast he beat himself off, Piccolo was still going to beat him to the finish line much faster (puns not intended).

His skyrocketing heart rate snapped him out of his spaced out bubble. _Oh, Kaioh!_ _Piccolo can’t possibly see him like this! How was he going to hide his monstrous, full-blown boner?_ He would rather die a gruesome death in the hands of a cruel and sadistic enemy than die of embarrassment at being caught dead jerking off to his dearest friend!

It was too late and too risky to try and finish himself off now. The _Kami no Shinden_ was thousands of miles away but Piccolo’s top speed flight was only a sparse few seconds slower than his father’s teleportation; he was going to be there at any moment! _Where to hide—where to hide??_

The shower or the sheets?? He had to make up his mind, and fast! Piccolo would know where to find him either way, he was probably homing in on his Ki signature right that very moment! The shower was too far away! His bed was only a few paces across the room! Without wasting another second to hesitation, he lunged for it—

**WHUDDD!!!**

Gohan reeled from the impact as he seemed to have crashed straight into a solid wall of immovable rock that appeared from out of nowhere! Only, it wasn’t a wall…

It was a body— _that_ body… And that mind-numbingly alluring scent…!

_He was too late!!_

The hybrid teenager timidly looked up, teeth biting on lips, and face brightly burning. “P-P-Piccolo-san!!!” he squeaked, as he confirmed his worst fears, whimpering as strong arms kept him from melting all over the floor in an unsightly mess.

“G-Goha—”

“I-I’m fine, Piccolo-san!” Gohan pushed against the sturdy chest against him but it did little to nothing; his arms felt rubbery and numb. _Oh gods, he hasn’t seen his master in so long—too long!_ His body ached to be near him, the urges welling up inside him from just a cursory whiff of the Namek’s tempting scent was driving him insane! Once again, he tried to push himself away, terrified that his beloved and most revered master would feel “it”—and “it” was impossible not to feel at that point. “I-I’m so sorry I worried you, but I’m f-fine, h-honest! So, just go, and…”

But to his consternation (and depraved excitement), Piccolo held on to him tight.

And Gohan knew he didn’t have the strength or conviction to resist the subject of his sweetest dreams and darkest desires anymore. He was crumbling and could barely keep himself together… “P-please, Piccolo-san! I can’t…!”

“You can’t what, Gohan?”

“I-I can’t be with you right now! Aaahhh!!!” His whole body collapsed in involuntary mini-shudders as he was suddenly enveloped in a crushing embrace; trembling like a leaf in the midst of a storm as his erection brushed against the Namek’s firm thighs.

With a choke of a sob, Gohan’s fingers reached up of their own volition and grabbed onto Piccolo’s cape, clawing and grasping and pulling; trying to muffle his plaintive cries by smooshing his face into the bunched up fabric that covered Piccolo’s chest as his whole body finally went rigid, unable to stop his long-overdue and very forceful climax.

Piccolo felt something but he didn’t pay heed right away; choosing to reciprocate what he interpreted as a hug and trying to gauge how he felt and if he liked holding his friend in this way.

It wasn’t long after, when the high ebbed away, that the sobs took hold of Gohan once more, only this time, with a vengeance. He felt so dirty and terrible, and overall, just guilty as fuck. “I-I’m sorry… I’m so, _so_ sorry…!”

“Sorry for what?”

Gohan hiccuped. Dammit if he didn’t hate how innocent Piccolo was sometimes! How do you even explain this?! _Because I just ejaculated on you! I just wanked off to mental images of you and me getting it on, that’s why!!! I want you so badly! I want to die because I know that it’s not what you want! You’ll hate me now, I just know it. Oh, Kamisama! Just kill me please!!!_ he internally wailed.

“Ejaculated?” Piccolo echoed. Then he peeled Gohan off a little enough to be able to peer down at the prominent wet spots on both their lower garments. “So that’s what it was…”

Gohan’s face was white as ash. He hung his head low and forlornly pushed himself off Piccolo completely. His shoulders shook as he begun to cry even more uncontrollably. “I’m so very truly sorry… I would understand if you despised me now…”

He had expected a dozen different reactions to this moment in his life, but none of which included Piccolo reaching down and touching the stain on his loose-fitting track pants.

“Gaaaahhhh!!!!”

None of his wildest imaginings had Piccolo closely examining the sticky evidence of his milky white essence in between those elegant verdant fingers, that Gohan swore his soul had evacuated his physical body that very instant.

“You really _do_ want to have sexual intercourse with me…” Piccolo murmured and Gohan practically dissolved into dust.

The Namek was quiet for some moments more, pondering on what he had just confirmed, but Gohan couldn’t take it anymore. He sunk to his knees and buried his face in his hands, devastated.

“How long have you felt this way?”

The demi-Saiyajin hiccuped and heaved and sniffled several times before he could muster an answer. “I… I… s-since… since always…? I just… you… You mean the world to me—you’re all I see…! I don’t know exactly when it got so bad, but I just want you so much— _I need you!_ But I didn’t know it and I can’t help it either, no matter how hard I try…! I would fuse with you forever if I could.”

Piccolo’s insides quivered in that unique way it only did when he was with Gohan—when Gohan wooed him with such treacly, sappy utterances. He didn’t dislike it, though he was still confused as hell as to what was expected of him—how he could be of service to his long-time friend in this new light. He only knew that, as always, it didn’t please him to see Gohan suffer so.

“I did not know you felt this way… I did not mean to cause you so much pain. I’m so sorry, Gohan.”

Gohan tremulously lifted his head, tears still streaming down his face. He was so shocked at what he heard that he didn’t know what to do—heck, he was still trying to process what his master had just said. But then, Piccolo got down on one knee and leaned close. A finger travelled up his cheek to soak up the tears there and it was so gentle that Gohan couldn’t help but tremble hard.

“Gods…” Gohan gasped feeling his erection stir again. “I- I have to…” But the words evaporated in his throat as he felt Piccolo’s hand move away from his face…

…To pet the growing bulge in between his legs.

“You are…”

“Aahh…!” Gohan fell to his bum, falling apart in shivers again as his whole being gave in to the feeling of Piccolo touching him just for a few selfish moments before he gathered enough sense in him to protest, “D-don’t do that! You’ll make it worse!” Although, he made no attempt to sever the physical contact between him and his mentor.

“I… I don’t know how… How do I make it better?” Piccolo asked innocently.

And just like that, Gohan stiffened to full mast right in Piccolo’s hand, that he too was sufficiently shocked stupid. He could not pick himself up—could not speak. _It was all too much!_ The Saiyajin hybrid could do nothing but stare at himself in his master’s hand and hyperventilate.

“It is my fault,” Piccolo said quietly.

“N-no, it isn’t! It-it just does that with you, I- I can’t help it! It’s no one’s fault but my stupid body’s!” Gohan gnawed his lip and feebly tried pushing Piccolo’s hand away but…

Piccolo found himself mesmerized. He has never seen Gohan this way: looking so hopelessly unravelled and begging to be debauched. He realized that his heart was beating so fast and so hard that his chest was resounding in his ears like a gong. He remembered Dende’s words, how Earthlings—and most likely, Saiyajins alike—couldn’t control it, these feelings and urges that possessed them. And he realized that perhaps he too, was a victim of the same malady, because he couldn’t help but touch Gohan even as the boy pleaded with him not to. There was a part of him that wanted this too… He just never dared acknowledge it before.

“Please, aaahh!” Gohan sucked a breath in between quivering lips as his throbbing hardness, which was nearly bursting out of his pants now, is given an experimental squeeze, which only caused it to get bigger and much, _much_ harder. “Don’t d-do thaa—! Ahh! J-just… Just leave me alone, hahh… It will go away… I’ll be f-fine.”

But Piccolo wasn’t listening. And he didn’t know why he wasn’t listening either. Looking at his pupil, he was going by pure instinct now, and he just knew that Gohan wanted the very opposite of what was being said. It was the boy’s propriety speaking, struggling to prevail; but his heart and his body were saying something completely different. So he decided that he was going to touch Gohan; because that was what Gohan really wanted—what he needed but was too polite to ask for. The boy had been trained to forego his needs and wants all his life, and Piccolo had made it his secret mission to fix that.

He had been gauging himself since he had arrived and slipped inside Gohan’s bedroom window like he always did before. Now that he was actually touching Gohan—a very intimate part of him—and not only seeing, but feeling the actual physical evidence of theboy’s attraction towards him, he couldn’t deny what he was feeling himself… It intrigued him—fascinated him; the bigger and harder this part of Gohan got, the more excitement he felt.

Piccolo knew he had a similar organ, and although he’s never tried touching himself there before, he could feel his body growing hotter, particularly, in that area in his groin… He was mildly shocked to even feel himself gushing, and the more he watched Gohan moan under his touch, the wetter he seemed to get…

“P-Piccolo-san…” Gohan panted with tears in his hooded eyes. Piccolo had both hands on his huge, twitching hard-on now, squeezing and petting carefully, feeling the length and breadth of him and watching his reactions closely. “Please… I- I can’t… nngg… for much longer!”

“Does it hurt?”

“No… Haah… It feels… good— _too good!_ Ahh-aahnn…! I can’t… please! I won’t… be able to—haah, s-stop myself!” Without thinking, his fingers were around his master’s wrists in a deathly grip. “Nngg…! _Kamisama, help me! You don’t know what you’re doing to me!!”_

Without warning, Piccolo pulled down the waistband of his pants and underwear just enough to free his erection; and sure enough, it sprung out into the open and stood before him proudly. Veiny, rock-hard, thick and pulsating, clear moisture already budding at its bulbous tip.

“Gods, Piccolo-san!” Gohan cried, his face burning fiercely and eyes rimmed with more unshed tears. “Please, don’t look at me! N-not like this!”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because I don’t want you to hate me!!!??”

“You keep saying that. I told you I could never hate you, Gohan.” Piccolo said simply, bringing the pad of his index finger to delicately pat Gohan’s weeping tip.

Gohan shuddered and turned his head away, gritting his teeth and screwing his eyes shut. But his breath hitched as he felt the Namek’s fingers on his chin, gently tipping his face back to meet his. Slowly, tentively, he met Piccolo’s scintillating blue eyes.

“I may not know what love is completely yet, but I know what hate is… And the only thing I’ve always known for certain is that I could never feel that for you.”

Gohan swallowed, hard. His mind was in a whirl at everything that’s been happening, and he was convinced that it was all a dream, but even in his dreams he always held back to some degree, not wanting his beloved master to see him as anything less. But those words were so sweet, and the temptation was too great. He knew was on the brink of losing this battle; a mere hair’s breadth away from wantonly ravishing the godsforsakenly enticing creature before him. He reassessed his hold on Piccolo’s wrists and applied significant force. “I-if you keep touching me like that, I won’t be able to hold back… I-I’ll do things to you that you will surely hate me for!!”

“Don’t hold back. I won’t hate you.”

Gohan’s mind blurred out completely from that point on.

“P-Piccolo-san…!” he groaned as he fell on his back when Piccolo pulled his pants off entirely and continued to make him “feel good”.He moaned loudly in between mindless panting, writhing in place with his head thrown back and legs spread wide. He could barely keep his eyes open as his head tossed from side to side; at one point, he bleakly noticed the view from beyond his window for a split second… _A full moon…_

He felt something snap inside of him, and a split-second later, the lifelong object of his love and lust was under his weight, his hands savagely ripping to shreds everything that stood between him and his green-skinned prince’s sublime naked body. His nose greedily inhaled the intoxicating aroma of Piccolo’s exotic skin; his mouth tasted and suckled and bruised; cherry-red lips anointing every inch of vibrant green, pink, and red-lined tantalizing skin it glided upon with succulent kisses.

Piccolo was on his back and breathless before he knew what was happening. As promised, Gohan was touching him and doing things to his body that rendered him too dizzy to see and so feverishly aroused. He felt his chest expanding and his throat expelling incoherent sounds and fragmented words in a voice he barely recognized as his own. Gohan set his flesh on fire wherever his touches landed; his veins felt like liquid fire coursed through them instead of blood; with every press of those heavenly lips—with every kiss and lick and suck his loins sparked and ignited with electric current. He was thoroughly sopping wet between his legs by the time Gohan found his mouth and heatedly kissed it. He welcomed the boy’s tongue and avidly met it, responding back with so much burning need and craving that he didn’t even know he had.

By the time they relented in the kiss, they were both severely out of breath and spectacularly dazed.

But Gohan was far from done with him; Piccolo could tell by the look in the boy’s eyes. They were different—primal and hungry. He knew without a doubt then, that he wasn’t going to stop until he had “consummated” his for-gods-knows-how-long pent-up desires. And Piccolo bravely stared back into those lust-filled deep-brown orbs, as if giving his consent—communicating that he wanted the same thing. He reached down to grab the pulsating member poking at his soaked tenderness, hoping to feel that part of Gohan in his hands once more before it entered him, but to his shock, Gohan pulled his arms up and pinned it high above him, kissing him some more as he was rimmed and teased maddeningly. In all his life, Piccolo never imagined that he could moan so lewdly.

Gohan liked how his dearest mentor looked with his hands trapped in place and out of the way; marvelled at how divine Piccolo looked with his long, seductive legs splayed far apart and inviting him to plunder. More than anything, he was thrilled to find his gorgeous Namek already amply—if not excessively—lubricated, which was just as well, as he was massive, and even if he was aware that Piccolo was no frail and breakable Earthling but one of finest warriors the universe has ever known, able to endure even the most unforgiving of punishments, he preferred to inflict mind-blowing pleasure and not pain. He probed his master’s plump, twitching wetness thoroughly, intending to repay him for the attention he unexpectedly received earlier. He let his fingers become acquainted with his every exquisite convex and slope, made sure to explore every tight space within his sacred crevice and tease the swollen, hypersensitive node that crowned his sex. Gohan took his time revelling in the texture of the delectable Namek’s come – crystal clear and syrupy, and smelling so sweet and sinful that his brain swelled with unbearable want.

Piccolo squirmed the entire time, groaning and sobbing, and futilely blinking back the stars that incessantly exploded in his brain from Gohan’s unrelentingly slow and sensual torment. So lost in the maddening sensations that he could not even remember how to breath, let alone think. All he knew was a hazy, psychedelic new world through his pulsing and coruscating vision, how his entire being thrummed and quaked to the very edge of breaking point from the intense sensory assault overload. And it was all building up to a fantastic much-needed denouement that kept eluding him and just dragged on and on, higher and higher, until he was at the very threshold of its reach…

That’s when Gohan penetrated him in one decisively brutal thrust, knocking what little air he had managed to sustain in his lungs. A blinding surge of pain racked through his mind and it felt like his entire body was actually being ripped in half. But then the most unbelievable feeling of fullness gradually superseded the hurt and the very next moment everything had shifted to pure pleasure as his lover commenced driving in and out of him in a consistently delicious rhythm—the pleasure so amazing and so intense that it wasn’t long before he was sent into a frenzy of convulsions and spasms that shorted out his brain in an eruption of bright white light that flooded his consciousness with pure unadulterated bliss for what seemed like a torturous eternity—before it was over too soon and receding too fast… Piccolo took a large gulp of air as he felt all the tension and energy dissipate from his system in calming wave after another until he was reduced to minute tremors and short gasping breaths…

Gohan had shot his hot seed deep inside of him and the sensation brought some involuntarily after shudders. As Gohan’s weight collapsed on top of him, he had just enough energy left to gaze up at the boy whose bleary coffee-coloured orbs were regarding him with what looked to be part-appreciation, part-apology and all-out besottedness. One corner of Piccolo’s lips turned up, and before he completely lost himself to exhaustion, managed to daub his fingers over the red cry-bags underlining Gohan’s eyes, which earned him a smile and a peck to his lips… After which, they both finally surrendered to the Sandman’s dust…

  


Needless to say, their mobile devices outlived its usefulness in their lives after that…

  


**The End!  
** (Guuhh… DX)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***aisu** \- Actually means "ice cream" in Japanese, hehe. Ah, the puns. 
> 
> Gods, how did this nonsense end up being so long? I did not expect this to be this behemoth of a story, bwah. 8I (Anyhoo.) I felt ill-equipped for this theme since I’m a Generation X baby, still in love with old-fashioned letters and nostalgic about good old (now defunct) Yahoo!Groups fan interactions. Sure, I own some technology I use but never at any point in my life did I develop an unhealthy addiction to it (well, if you don’t count locking yourself up for months on end Playstation 2-ing, that is). This whole story was fleshed out from 3 random scenes I really liked, so I just built everything else around it (that might have been obvious?) XD Lastly, my writing style is undergoing some changes, thanks to all the poly-reading I've been doing of late (the only time I'm polygamous), so I really dunno anymore. Merp.
> 
> If you found all of what you’ve just read kinda weird, well, you’re not alone, mehehe.
> 
> * * *
> 
> (2020-05-01-2020-05-31)

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Z/GT/Xenoverse/Super** /etc. belong to their respective owners. I own nothing except this derivative fanwork which I do not profit from.


End file.
